


Finding Home

by cleo4u2



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Bed straps, Bondage, Dominant Bottom, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Smut, beckney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark has wanted Dr. Chris Beck since they starting training together for the Ares III mission. After 18 months alone, he thinks he’ll have gotten over the hottest doctor in space. He’s dead wrong, but Chris has had some hard truths forced upon him while they’ve been apart. Seems he’s not as straight as he claimed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

> For [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile) who also beta'd this fic. Thanks for making my writing so much better.

After nearly 542 days without seeing another living being, Mark isn’t surprised at how his body had reacted to seeing Chris again. Dr. Beck – he has to put some distance between them in his head or he’ll lose it – appearing through the torn canvas had been like witnessing an angel descending from heaven. An overdramatic comparison, perhaps, but after everything he’s been through, he doesn’t think anyone would mind if he indulged himself a little.

They hadn’t really spoken much, not during the rescue, or afterwards when Dr. Bossy Beck had been spouting commands. Considering Mark is used to talking to himself, he doesn’t really mind. Between the pain and having Chris literally stripping him down, he’s not able to focus on conversation anyway. While on the one hand it’s nice to have human contact again, on the other he’s forgotten just how _hot_ Chris is. Those blue eyes, that jaw, those cheekbones; he’s an astronaut, but wouldn’t be out of place among GQ models. Only the astronomical amount of pain he’s in kept Mark from an embarrassing boner. Well, his blood pressure from low gravity probably helps as well.

When the X-rays and chest bandages are in place, Mark finally gets to see the rest of the crew. They’re all understandably hesitant to get too close to his stench. It’s good, great even, but he’s also forced to admit that seeing them isn’t the same as seeing Chris – Dr. Beck. He’s missed the whole crew fiercely and would forever be grateful to every single one for risking so much to save him. They’ve given up a year of their _lives_ to save him. He doesn’t take that lightly. They just aren’t Dr. Beck who, Mark forcefully reminds himself, has a thing for Johanssen.

Having so many people around after being alone for so long is overwhelming. He doesn’t let himself think that Dr. Beck is paying enough attention to notice his distress when, not five minutes after everyone enters, he’s kicking them out again. It’s just that Dr. Beck is a good doctor. There’s nothing between them, as was made perfectly clear during training. Mark is gay, but Chris – Dr. Beck – prefers women. Nothing’s changed.

“Take these,” Dr. Beck instructs.

A bottle of water and a Vicodin are pressed into Mark’s hands. Somehow, Chris manages to do it without touching him. It’s almost impressive.

“I need to see if there’s damage to my bio lab. When you can lift your arms, take a shower. You’re on bedrest until further notice, so lie down again when you’re done.”

He leaves then, but that only means Mark can watch his ass and thighs as he floats away. 

Fuck. How could he still have it this bad? They hadn’t even talked or laid eyes on each other in a year and a half.

Trying to distract himself, Mark writes his log for his first day off of Mars – _thank Christ_ – and does _not_ mention how good Chris still looks. The drugs seemed to have kicked in by the time he’s finished, so he gets up and strips out of the blanket he’d been left in. Since there isn’t any gravity at the moment,, showering is tricky. He’s out of practice and it takes longer than it should have. By the time he’s able to extricate himself from the shower cylinder, Chris – _Dr. Beck, Mark, seriously_ – is back.

“Forgot how the soap floats along with the water,” Mark explains, but Dr. Beck isn’t paying attention. His blue eyes are traveling from Mark’s knees, up his thighs and lingering on his groin. It’s uncomfortable, for the obvious reasons, but also because Mark is keenly aware of how malnourished he is at the moment. He just hadn’t thought it was worth staring at.

“I know,” he tries to joke, “I could use a Snickers.”

Dr. Beck’s eyes snap back up to his own and he offers a small smile.

“Maybe a dozen,” he teases, running both hands through dark brown hair. “I brought you some clothes to change into. Tonight I want to stay here, keep an eye on you. Tomorrow, if you’re too crowded, I can see if Johanssen will let me stay with her. It’ll be awkward, but-“

“No!”

Dark eyebrows rise in surprise as Mark shouts.

“No,” he tries again, and it sounds sane this time, “Company would be- I’d like to not be alone.”

“Okay,” Dr. Beck says easily, “I’ll let Martinez know he’s bunking with Vogel.”

Guilt swirls in Mark’s stomach. He knows how much Chris likes Johanssen and if he gets a chance to stay with her, Mark shouldn’t force him to stay with him instead. It’s selfish and a bit childish. So he sucks it up; Chris isn’t his to monopolize.

“If you would rather stay with Johanssen, Martinez _does_ count as company,” he offers.

“No,” Chris shrugs.

Pushing off the floor, he floats to a wall and grabs the sweatpants and shirt he retrieved for Mark. He tosses them through the air and the soft fabric strikes Mark in the chest after a short journey through weightless space.

“No?” Mark repeats, clutching the cloth to his chest. “Something happen with you two?”

“Yeah.”

As Mark pulls on the pants and long-sleeved NASA shirt, Dr. Beck floats back to his desk and tucks himself into his chair.

“We were good, for a little while. Then…”

“Lewis find out?” Mark guesses.

“No, ah.” Chris’ smile is captivating, even when self-deprecating, “Beth told me a few days ago that, while she liked me, I needed to come to terms with reality.”

“That’s harsh,” Mark frowns, “You’re sure Johanssen said that?”

“I _was_ there,” Chris smiles. There’s no sadness in it and it’s… Mark doesn’t know how to describe it. “No, she was right. Beth is great, but...”

Mark can’t just let him leave it like that.

“But what? I thought you and Johanssen had a good thing. I even- I may have written you a note telling you to confess how you felt. I didn’t die, so you didn’t get it, but still. The hell happened?”

“She realized I was hung up on someone else.”

“What?” Mark is floored. “You didn’t tell me about anyone else.”

“I don’t exactly tell you everything, Mark.”

It’s the truth of the statement that makes it sting, he thinks. Unable to bring himself to stare at that cleft in Chris’ – _Dr. Beck’s_ – chin any more, he ducks his head. Probably best to be completely honest and then suggest again that Martinez be his bunk mate. Vogel won’t care if Dr. Beck stays with him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” he says, gingerly floating himself back to the room’s exam bed, “I know we had that talk like three years ago about you being straight and not interested. I did a pretty good job ignoring it, but I guess even a year and a half apart can’t make me stop…wanting you.”

Mark can feel Chris staring at him, but he doesn’t look over. He’s not _saying_ anything, and that’s making him feel like a bigger idiot than ever. This is not how he wanted to spend his first hours among people again.

“Martinez won’t mind bunking with me,” he says around a weird lump in his throat, “I’m sure Vogel won’t blow you up while you sleep.”

The joke falls flat; Chris doesn’t laugh and he _still_ doesn’t say anything. Mark wants to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Maybe Lewis will let him jump out an airlock if he tells her how much he hates disco. Not likely. He settles for pulling himself onto the exam bed. It’s painful, but he just wants to go to sleep. Maybe this will turn out to be a bad dream, or a hallucination brought on by the drugs, and he can wake up to none of this having happened. 

Yeah, no. Mark’s used up all his luck getting this far.

He’s trying to twist so he can reach the straps necessary to keep him on the bed when weight settles over his thighs. Dr. Beck – Chris – hooks his calves under the edge of the exam bed, holding himself down on Mark’s legs and pinning Mark down on the bed. His eyes are, for lack of a better word, intense. They bore into Mark like he holds some coveted secret.

Bending at the waist, Chris leans over Mark and presses his hands to either side of his head. Instantly, Mark’s mouth is dry and, though he opens his mouth, he can’t ask what the hell Chris is doing.

“You’ve been hung up on me for three years, Watney?” Chris asks, but it’s more of a demand.

Mark isn’t sure if he wants to answer. That look can mean one of two things. One is impossible, Chris is straight, and the other will end with his ass getting kicked. Yet, Mark can’t help but think of the first option, the one where that darkness in Chris’ eyes is lust, not anger.

His pulse quickens. He’s the first man to colonize Mars, goddamn it, he can do this, so, “Kind of?” Well, at least it’s an answer.

An answer that has Chris smiling, slow and perfect, with that grin that first made Mark’s knees weak. The fucker has _dimples_. He is _so_ screwed.

“Three years is a long time to wait,” Chris says, his hands moving from the bed on either side of Mark, to his shoulders. They’re bony and press sharply into Chris’ palms, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Think you deserve a reward; can’t be easy waiting on a guy who needs a someone else to tell him how he feels.”

“What?” Mark says, ever-so-eloquently, if he does so say himself.

“Might have been too hasty having you get dressed again, but we have to lay down some ground rules anyways.”

“Ground rules.”

See? He can keep up.

“Yeah, hold this.” He presses a half-empty bottle of lube into Mark’s hand. “Ground rules; you’re hurt and I won’t have you aggravating those ribs, so I’m going to strap you down so you can’t move. We have to get you naked again first, so I’ll have to take your clothes off.”

Apparently, Dr. Bossy Beck is back, but Mark doesn’t think he minds this time. In fact, his blood flow is doing its damnedest to divert between his legs. With his blood pressure lowered from the lack of gravity on Mars, he’s not sure it can get there. He’s not going to _say that_ ; the lack of gravity hasn’t made him stupid, he’ll just have to hope it’s not a problem later.

“Then I’m going to ride you until you can’t see straight.”

Mark gapes for a moment before blurting, “Fuck, Chris. Johanssen know you’re so kinky?”

Chris’ hands are carefully peeling off Mark’s shirt, but he doesn’t pause as he growls, “Don’t you say her name while in bed with me again.”

Mark laughs and it hurts even with the drugs.

“I think that’s my line.”

Apparently irritated with his humor, Chris abandons his careful removal of Mark’s clothes to shove him hard down on the bed. It makes him wince, but then Chris is kissing him and it’s better than every fantasy he’s had of this moment. Chris’ lips are chapped, but they’re soft and full and Chris knows how to use them well. Sucking at Mark’s lip, he nips the swell and draws a moan from his too-thin chest.

Pulling away, Chris presses a finger to Mark’s lips to hush him.

“You moan again and I stop,” he promises.

Nodding to show he understands, he gets another knee-weakening grin, and Chris kisses him again. It’s rougher this time, teeth biting at Mark’s mouth while his tongue seems to be trying to taste everything behind them. If he thought he was overwhelmed before, it’s _nothing_ to the sensations crashing around in his mind now. There’s just so much _contact_ , and _taste_ , and _fuck_ Chris smells divine. He is not going to rub this in Johanssen’s face. Seriously, that would just be cruel when he’s _won_.

Now that Mark’s complying, Chris returns to stripping him of his clothing. He’s being exceedingly careful, but Mark doesn’t mind because he’s letting him get his hands beneath Chris’ clothing. For the first time he gets to touch the muscles that have always been more defined than should be possible in space. They’re even more glorious on Earth, but he won’t see _that_ sight for awhile, if ever. They’re gonna fuck, but who knows if they’ll last back in the real world? It doesn’t matter. If Mars has taught Mark anything, it’s to solve one problem at a time and not worry about the ones he hasn’t encountered yet.

The clothes Chris peels from Mark go floating across the room, hitting a bulkhead and rebounding into Chris’ bunk. Neither man notices. Chris’ hands are too busy finding the bed restraints and strapping Mark in. Mark is staring at his own limbs, trapped beneath the elastic, unable to touch any longer. However, he doesn’t protest. Chris had his conditions and he doesn’t want this encounter to end.

Only when Mark is strapped in does Chris strip himself down. Since he can’t move, Mark commits the stimulating sight to memory, and _stimulating_ it is. What Chris’ mouth and slow stripping couldn’t do is accomplished by Chris’ nudity. Really, it’s because Chris is erect before he’s naked, proving he really does want Mark. At least, a Mark that can’t move, or resist whatever it is Chris wants to do to him.

“Holy shit,” Mark gasps.

Chris bites his lip, dragging his teeth over his lower lip. Mark’s cock twitches in appreciation.

“See, I can get your blood pumping,” Chris says, cocky and sure. Maybe someone else would be embarrassed, but he’s right. Mark wants this so bad it hurts.

“Didn’t know I was into bondage,” he confesses.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Chris quickly assures him. Which is funny, because Mark wants Chris to do _everything_ to him. But Chris is earnest so he doesn’t laugh.

“Giddy-up, cowboy,” he says instead, and Chris’ smile comes back.

Leaning over Mark again, Chris holds on to the bed to keep himself in place. He doesn’t blink as he slowly leans down, turning his head at the last minute to brush his lips over Mark’s jaw. He trails kisses down Mark’s throat, over the jut of his shoulder bone, on every rib, making Mark’s breathing hitch unsteadily. Under the restraints, he twists and bites his lip to restrain his moans. Lifting his head, he watches as the hottest doctor in space licks at the dip of his hips and has to bite his tongue to keep from groaning at the sight. That’s not even the best part. While Mark’s been focused on the mouth on his skin, Chris has twisted off the cap of lube and has buried two fingers in his ass.

“You’re- Holy shit, you’re really going to ride me.”

Blue eyes burn him from beneath impossibly long dark lashes as Chris _smirks_. 

“Did I die? I think I must have died because this has gotta be the afterlife.” 

Mark babbles, but his body is reacting to Chris’ mouth. He shudders, arms and legs jerking randomly, and goosebumps have erupted on his skin. He doesn’t actually think he’s dead, though it’s a fair possibility, but _this_ is just...so... _much_. 

“You’re just a little touch-starved,” Chris says, but he chuckles, so that’s good. Then his nails rake just hard enough to leave white marks down his thighs and Mark nearly comes off the table. “See? Enjoy it while it lasts. I know I will.”

The last sentence is said as Chris arches his back, eyes fluttering closed when he hits _something_ just right with his fingers. It comes out deep and rich in a way Mark has never heard before. Pre-come swells from his tip to drip down his shaft at the sound. There’s no doubt left; he’s totally fucked.

“I need, Chris, please, dude-”

“ _Dude_?”

Chris’ mouth is no longer on Mark’s skin. Looking down, he can see anger and amusement swirling in Chris’ dark blue eyes. He hasn’t stopped stretching himself, though, so this is salvageable.

“Sorry. Sexy, phenomenal, God of biology and all things medical, please, _fuck me_. Better?”

Laughing, Chris nods, then abruptly throws his head back while stifling a moan. Mark’s a liar if he says he’s never pictured Chris like this. Not on Mars, he couldn’t get it up and couldn’t justify the oxygen use, but certainly on the trip to Mars and before, during training. Reality is far superior to his imagination. 

“Y-yeah, think I’m ready.”

Chris shudders and pulls his fingers free, then climbs Mark’s restrained body like a tree. It’s more literal in zero G, but all the more delightful to watch. With the amount of training he’s had as EVA Specialist, Chris is the most graceful of them all without gravity holding him down. He twists above Mark, ending up with his knees resting to either side of Mark’s hips and his hands tucked beneath his thighs. Since he’s not strapped in place, he uses Mark’s thighs as his anchor and lowers himself down onto his cock. It shows off his thighs, thick and firm; his stomach, not ripped like it was on Earth, but still hard; and his long cock standing amidst a thatch of black curls.

For the second time, Mark nearly comes off the table as he arches and thrusts up. It hurts, but he can’t _stop_. Chris, on the other hand, can. Immediately, he’s twisting again, grabbing Mark’s hips and holding them in a bruising grip.

“No,” he barks the order, “No thrusting, no _moving_. You’re hurt, Mark, and if you’re going to keep aggravating those ribs, I’m putting a stop to this.”

“No, no, no,” Mark gasps, twisting his wrists so he can grip the strap over his stomach, “I’ll- I won’t do it again. I won’t. Fuck, Chris, if you stop- I can’t- God, _don’t stop_.”

“That good, huh?” Chris asks, teasing and wearing that fucking smirk again. Mark nearly comes _undone_. Then Chris does _something_ and squeezes his entire cock _without moving_ while it’s still buried in Chris’ ass. It takes biting savagely at his lip, jerking his head to the side, and closing his eyes tightly to keep from crying out.

“Good, Mark, that’s real good,” Chris croones.

Gasping, Mark’s cock throbs from the words and he wants nothing more than to please Chris in every way. So he’ll do it; he doesn’t know how, but he’ll stay still, stay quiet. That’s what Chris wants, so he’ll find a way. He survived being stranded on Mars, _this_ cannot be harder.

Holding on to the strap and keeping his eyes shut turns out to be the only way Mark can manage. Chris starts to move again, and he gasps, clamping his hands down and arching his neck. There’s no scolding for _that_ , so he arches his neck further, the top of his head pressing down into the flimsy mattress. One of the hands wrapped around his thigh vanishes only to return to Mark’s throat, tracing the veins in his neck. Gasping raggedly, he twists his head to the left and Chris’ fingers follow. They wrap under his chin and hold, gentle and _solid_ , like nothing has been in so, so long.

“Chris,” Mark whispers. 

“I’m here,” Chris answers, voice thready and as full of need as his own.

“D-Don’t stop,” Mark begs, tries not to sob, but if Chris isn’t real-

“I won’t.”

And he doesn’t. Mark nearly tears the center straps from the bed, but he keeps still. Keeping quiet proves to be easier than staying still, but it’s not _easy_. Being inside Chris is better than anything he’s experienced so far in his life. He’s no blushing virgin, but Chris is tighter, hotter, and more enjoyable than any other man Mark has fucked. The hand on his throat keeps him grounded, balanced, and in control of himself. Mark doesn’t understand why, and he doesn’t care so long as Chris doesn’t pull away.

Maybe it’s the touch starvation. He’s not sure that’s a real thing, but he feels like it could be. 

When the pleasure is too much, when he can’t hold back any longer, he drops the strap and his hands find Chris’ thighs. He squeezes, nails digging into the pale flesh. Chris let’s out a strangled cry and comes. At the noise, Mark lets himself look, and it’s worth it to immediately shoot off when he sees Chris’ back arched, head tossed back, and mouth open in a silent cry. Somehow, he’s remembered to cover his cock so the spunk doesn’t end up splattering all over his room.

As they both come down, Mark frees his arm and grabs Chris’ hand. He pulls gently, bringing Chris’ palm to his lips and licking it clean with long, slow swipes of his tongue. Chris’ blue eyes dilate to black and he moans softly, staring rapturously until Mark’s cleaned everly last drop from his skin.

“You’re incredible,” Chris murmurs. Then he seems to find himself, undoing the straps holding Mark down with precise movements. “Let’s get you to bed and I’ll clean us up before we get some rest.”

“I’m in bed,” Mark says. 

It’s not a protest, just a fact. Chris rolls his eyes, continues removing the straps over Mark’s feet. Then he tugs gently, easily floating Mark across the room to the bunk against the wall.

“It’s not _my_ bed.”

“That’s a very logical argument,” Mark agrees happily. “Can’t find a single flaw.”

“Shut up and lie down,” Chris says, but it’s said fondly and he’s smiling.

“Whatever your want, Doc.”

“Mm, careful,” that smirk is back, a wicked look in Chris’ eyes, “I’ll take that literally.”

“If you keep doing _this_ , you can take whatever you _want_.”

Ducking his head to avoid the bunk ceiling, Chris kisses him hard.

“I want you,” he growls against Mark’s lips, “to be singularly mine.”

Mark swallows hard.

“They call that a relationship, Chris. Say it with me, ‘I want to be your boyfriend.’”

“No,” Chris says and Mark’s heart gives a stutter before Chris says, “I want _you_ to be _my_ boyfriend.”

“What the hell is the difference?” Mark laughs, but Chris doesn’t smile this time, so he takes his face in his hands. “I’ve been yours, without even knowing it, since we last saw each other.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Chris nods and presses another quick kiss to Mark’s lips. 

“I don’t know when I became yours, but it’s the only thing I’ve been sure of since we found out you were still alive.”

With another kiss, Chris gets up to grab a rag and Mark’s water bottle. He carefully cleans them both of sweat and semen, then crawls over Mark so he’s spooned behind him. It’s a tight fit, but Chris wraps his arm around Mark’s stomach, holding him more securely than the straps keeping them from floating away. It’s warm and wonderful and he didn’t know how badly he needed it until he’s boneless in Chris’ arms, drifting and nearly asleep before they’re completely strapped in.

It could be an hour, or five minutes later, that someone pushes into Chris’ quarters without knocking. Mark doesn’t move, keeps his eyes closed, and is rewarded when he hears Johanssen speaking.

“Chris, I need s- Oh!”

Chris’ eyelashes brush Mark’s shoulder as he opens his eyes. There’s a long silence where they must be staring at each other, but then Johanssen snorts. Behind him, Chris relaxes even as he tightens his hold on Mark’s hips.

“Good to see you figuring your shit out,” Johanssen says. There’s curiously no heat in her tone. “I’ll just be a minute, don’t get up.”

For another minute she shuffles around the room, finding supplies or something or other, and then her footsteps take her back to the door. 

There she pauses when Chris says, “Beth.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Just...be good to him,” she says. “He’s been through enough.”

“I will,” Chris promises. 

It’s debatable if Johanssen heard because the door shuts a moment later. Twisting his wrist, Mark covers Chris’ hand with his own and feels him start in surprise.

“You’re awake.”

“He states the obvious,” Mark mutters. “Sounds like I owe her a beer when we get home.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mark. That I didn’t figure it out sooner…” 

Chris’ face presses against his shoulder.

“I was so sure you were dead,” he whispers.

It hurts, but Mark twists under Chris’ arm. The idiot protests, but Mark ignores him until they’re face to face.

“You’re here,” he says firmly, “I’m here. None of the rest means anything except it led us here. I kind of like it here, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Chris manages, eyes downcast.

Mark cups his cheeks and brushes away the moisture on his lashes.

“Then that’s enough of that conversation. We have a whole year of fucking to make up for lost time.” 

Mark presses their lips together, open-mouthed and sweet. Chris trembles and he needs to see him smile, so he asks, “How many positions do you think we can create that no one’s ever tried before, since we won’t always have to deal with pesky gravity?”

Chris laughs, gather’s Mark in by the shoulders and hugs him tight. With his face burrowed in Chris’ shoulder, Mark feels like he’s already home.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u.tumblr.com/)


End file.
